


Better

by aureliu_s



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Old Writing, a little more fluff, first night together?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 15:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11512218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aureliu_s/pseuds/aureliu_s
Summary: After Maria spends the night with a handsome stranger, she is uncertain of what she will wake up to.If you can't tell, I suck at titles and summaries. Go me.





	Better

**Author's Note:**

> Little more Thomaria before I work on prompts or shiz. I was in a Hamilton GC on kik once where Thomas and Maria were a thing and apparently we called it Jeynolds? Idk I'll probably use them interchangeably. Enjoy.

When she woke up the next morning, she didn't open her eyes straight away. She was scared of what she would see if she did--an empty bed? A note saying how nice it was to bang her? A fifty dollar bill maybe?   
She bit her lip, and slowly began to take in her surroundings. Something was blocking the sunlight that usually streamed in from her bedroom window, and someone beside herself was breathing. Her pillow didn't feel like a pillow at all--once she thought about it, it felt like skin. Soft, warm. A little more thinking and she deducted it to be a bicep. She could feel the sheets everywhere on her body. She was naked. That was a strange feeling, knowing she was naked and there was someone else in bed with her. She tried to press her legs together but noted that both her smooth limbs were wrapped around a strong thigh and calf, probably twice the length of her own legs. There were fingers gently combing through her hair in a slow rhythm, a warm hand wedged between her thighs, thumb rubbing slowly against her skin. Her arms were pressed to her breasts, which she was nervous to find the blankets didn't fully cover.   
She bit her lip. Within a few seconds, the sunlight speckled against her closed eyelids and the bed squeaked, she felt a shift, and warm lips were pressed gently against hers. She was too scared to take her arms away from her chest. Another gentle kiss, and another, until finally another shift in the bed and the sun was blocked.   
"Your lips are too gorgeous to bite, darling."   
She slowly opened her eyes.   
  
Black ones looked back at her, a smile gracing bright pink lips, a perfectly cut beard around a perfectly sharp jaw moving to accommodate that smile. Insane curls were tussled in every direction, finely curved eyebrows of the same color sat over a tired but loving gaze. Now she remembered him. Her heart began to pick up, and she smiled bashfully. He was even more gorgeous in the morning light. She realized his arm was extended and he was lying across from her, and it was his bicep she was snuggled onto, and his hand that sat warmly between her thighs, and his leg that hers were wrapped around. The blankets were at his stomach, revealing the same amazingly muscular arms from last night, beautifully carved pectorals, perfectly placed abs.   
The hand between her thighs slowly removed itself and appeared above the blankets, moving to gently pull the sheets to cover her chest. She blushed harder.   
"Thank you," she said in a tiny voice as he tucked the fabric around her. His arm wrapped itself around her small torso under the protection of the blanket again, and he scooted a little closer.   
"Non, thank you," he replied after a second. "You let a complete stranger take your virginity, and you don't seem to hate me. I'm honored." He chuckled lightly and gently touched her cheek.   
"You're better than all the other guys who have tried to," she replied quietly, a small, nervous smile gracing her lips. He shook his head, still smiling.   
"You said almost the same thing last night, my love."   
She buried her face into his shoulder. He had peppered her with nicknames the moment she sat on his lap at the club. But she liked this one. Because it was protective. It was strong. It was warm, it was...real. She was _his_ love. "Of course, then," he placed a kiss to the tip of her nose, "you were a little occupied with bigger matters."   
  
And he was smooth. She clearly remembered the size of his member. She blushed harder. Bigger matters indeed.   
  
They sat in silence for a few minutes, his hand combing through her hair still and her eyes tracing and re-tracing every outline of his torso. She enjoyed the feel of muscles shifting in his thigh when he moved. Finally, after nearly five minutes in silence, she scooted closer and moved up to place a soft, timid kiss against his lips. He smiled against her mouth, and kissed her back equally as tenderly. Her small hands came up to gently cup his jaw, fingertips running back and forth against his beard. She pulled away shyly after a minute, smiling.   
"I just wanted to kiss you," she admitted softly, "you're a good kisser."   
A warm, calloused palm slid up her arm to caress her cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth over her skin. She noted his black eyes were closed as he gently touched his nose to hers.   
"You can kiss me all you want, baby girl," he hummed, and for the first time Maria noticed an accent to his words. It was hard to discern, but, she could easily pick out parts of it. The way he said "baby girl" made her think Southern, and the more she thought she wondered how she had failed to notice the light tinge of the South that lingered in his voice. There was a lazy, calming drawl on all the words he'd spoken this morning. Last night, however, hadn't been the same. She marveled at the thought. He could control his own accent. There were the occasionally sounds slurred together, but just barely. One had to really think to hear it. She didn't know what that part of his voice could be.   
  
She suddenly remembered his name, something that had been blank in her brain until now.   
"Thomas," she murmured, looking over his face, watching the black eyes open. "Thomas. That's your name."   
" _Oui, c'est vrai_ ," he replied, French syllables rolling easily off his tongue. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her nose. " _Et, tu es Maria_." He added.   
She cocked an eyebrow, still smiling.   
"What's your last name?"   
"Jefferson," he replied easily.   
Maria nodded slowly, looking up at Thomas Jefferson. He didn't seem all too phased by his own name. He didn't seem too proud to say it. But she brushed that aside, repeating it on her lips. Thomas Jefferson. She liked it.   
"Where did you learn French?" She asked after a second, still rubbing her fingers into his beard.   
"High school, mostly. But I spent the majority of freshmen year in Paris, and learned the rest of it there," he replied. Her eyes lit up. He'd been to _Paris_ for the entire year? "I only got back a few days ago. A whole group of us went, it's part of program something or other."   
She was intrigued by this man now, this Thomas Jefferson.   
"Do you know any other languages?" She asked out of curiosity.   
"Latin," he said, "I can read Greek and a little Hebrew. Dabbled in Italian and Spanish."   
Her eyes widened.   
"That's amazing," she breathed, and then added with a giggle: "I can barely speak English."   
He kissed her.   
"I disagree. You speak it well, and you moan it perfectly."   
  
Oh so smooth.   
  
She closed her eyes and snuggled into him, still blushing. Could she ever stop blushing? She doubted it. Not with him.   
"I'm kind of surprised you'd sleep with a man with scars," he said suddenly, a light chuckle on his breath. She looked up, confused.   
"Scars?" He looked down, surprised.   
  
"You didn't see any of them?" He asked. She shook her head. "Well. There's one here," he lightly tapped the bridge of her nose. "One here," his hands searched for her wrist and he slid a hand around it, using his free hand to slide against her back. He found the middle of her spine and pressed down a little. "And one just about here."   
She examined his face for a second, eyes glazing over his nose again and again. When she couldn't find it, she reached out to gently take his chin in one hand and tilt his head down until she found it, a nearly paper thin, white scar that had one short jagged jagged that went up, and the rest of it rounded down to create a ragged semicircle. But it was a tiny scar. No wonder she hadn't noticed it.

  
She didn't have to look far for his wrist though. Her eyes flicked to their hands, and she immediately saw it. This one was bigger, much bigger. From end to end, it spanned the entire stretch of his wrist. It looked like a mountain range on both sides, jagged and pointed. And it was white, brighter than the rest of his skin. How had she not seen it? When she touched it, gently running her fingertip over it, she felt that it was a raised bump from the rest of his skin. It looked...threatening. Daunting. It felt like the door to some darker side of this man, but, she lacked a key.   
"Where did you get this?" She mumbled.   
"A champagne bottle," he replied simply, watching her fascination as she took his wrist in her own small hands. "Maybe I'll tell you the story later." After a second, she nodded, and then leaned forward to press a kiss to the scar before hugging his arm to her chest. That surprised him, along with the way she stroked her fingers up from the base of his palm all the way to his fingertips.   
"Where did you say the other one was?" She asked after a few minutes. He blinked a few times--her palm stroking had been setting him back to sleep.   
"My back," he replied, "on the center-ish of my spine." It was clear she wanted to see that too, so he reluctantly took his arm out of her grasp and rolled onto his stomach. She sat up, and the sheets fell around her hips. This one was hard to find too, but after a few minutes of letting her hands trail over his back (just as perfectly sculpted as his torso) she found it. It wasn't as small as the one at his lip, but not near as big and noticeable as the one occupying his wrist. Oddly enough, it was a near perfect right angle, with a rounded corner, and roughly the size of a quarter. She didn't say anything about this one either, instead just moving to lie down on top of him, burying her nose in his hair.

  
"With or without scars, you're better than any of the guys who've tried to sleep with me," she murmured. She squeaked a little in surprise when he moved under her so now he was lying on his back, with her sitting on his hips.   
"You've said that so many times, should I start believing it?" He asked teasingly, smiling up at her. Her cheeks flushed. No he had a perfect view of her breasts.   
"Yes! Because it's true," she gave a timid smile, concerning herself with tracing aimless patterns against his abs. His hands came to settle on her hips, squeezing lightly.   
"Tell me why, then."

**Author's Note:**

> if you read this far again hot damn


End file.
